Réflexions d'un écrivain

This past week, I was having a conversation with a good friend of mine. During this conversation, they said something to me that sparked a thought: they told me what I am supposed to be and what I’m supposed to like. Now, I’ve been blessed enough that most of the time, people don’t tell me who I am or what I should/should not like. There have been a few exceptions here an there, but for the most part, I can’t say I’ve given any real attention.

That made me think, how can anyone tell me what I’m supposed to be or what I should like/dislike? It’s my opinion and personal preference, shouldn’t I be the one in charge of that? Unfortunately, the world tries to tell you that you’re not. I just want to make one thing clear, you can’t let anyone–and I mean anyone–tell you who or what you should be as a person. You are an individual, a unique creation that is perfect just the way you are.

Whether or not you fit the criteria of what society says you should be or not doesn’t matter. Everyone is different and society is filled with generalizations and stereotypes that don’t always apply. The world is going to try to tell you who you are and what you should or shouldn’t be, but it’s your job as an individual to stand up and tell the world who you truly are.

Greetings blogosphere! I know I’ve been neglecting my weekly postings, but there’s a perfectly feasible reason for that; I haven’t had much to say. I like to use my blog as an outlet for the things I learn and observe in life, as well as sharing small anecdotes along the way. I can’t exactly say blog-worthy things are happening as much as they used to, but as of recently I’ve had a series of epiphanies and as the writer that I am, I’ve nothing to do except share it with you, my lovely readers.

The past two weeks have been a combination of emotional strain and thoughtless expression. To be quite frank, I’ve been speaking less and feeling more; introverted, if you will. Life seemed to have turned sour in more ways than I could count and I felt like I just wanted it all to end. I won’t go into the lengthy details of everything that has occurred, but I will say that I believe the universe is trying to teach me multiple lessons and only now am I seeing that.

For this week’s bit of my consciousness, I’ll share with you something that I’m sure on some level I already knew, but must have forgotten somewhere along the way. I realized that had been allowing bad memories to hinder things that I really would love to do. In some way, I was living in the past–replaying all of the horrible things that I’ve experienced and let me tell you now, there have been quite a few things.

Imagine yourself smaller–the size of an insect to be precise–and you’ve been living in a sealed jar for a very long time. You know the jar is sealed because you can see the lid above and in the past, every time you figured out a way to attempt an escape, you smashed into the lid. Naturally, you’ve given up the hope of escaping the jar and now you sit at the bottom, living your life insect-sized. You don’t even look up to the lid or think of escape tactics anymore.

Without your knowledge someone removed the lid of the jar but never told you that you had the freedom to escape whenever you wished to. Would you notice the lid wasn’t on the jar? And if you did would you try to escape, or just continue living in the jar where you’re comfortable?

To explain the above analogy, for a few years I seem to have been living the jar, so to speak, where I had grown comfortable–even though the lid was gone. It’s funny because I used to be the kind of person who would try and try and try to go forward and do more, but it seems that I grew apathetic due to not wanting to fight for something that I couldn’t yet accomplish. Needless to say, I’ll be moving out of my comfort zone…again.

I’m a big fan of body art. Tattoos, piercings; bodily adornment for the pure sake of artistic expression and creativity. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not referring to the people that cover themselves in tattoos from head to toe and pierce their bodies in so-called “strange” places, or alter their physical appearance to the extent that they don’t look human. While that’s an art form in itself, I’m referring to the slight adjustments that are used to decorate oneself. The minor things that decorate the body.

Fortunately, I’ve been blessed with a parent that is supportive of my appreciation for this art form and encourages it–in fact, the person in question (my mom) introduced me to it at a very young age. I remember being three or four years old seeing my mom come home with freshly bandaged tattoos or a piercing in a new place. Granted, she doesn’t have most of those piercings anymore, but the tattoos are still there (plus a few more) and the memories are still fresh in my mind.

I’m saying all of this because recently, as a late birthday gift, my mom let me get my ears pierced. It wasn’t my first time; it was actually the fourth. I first had my ears pierced when I was three, at my request. Then, when I was eleven, I asked my mom to let me get my ears pierced again; initially with the intention to get my cartilage pierced, but I wasn’t old enough. So, instead, I had my ear lobes pierced a second time. Then, for my twelfth birthday, I got the cartilage in my right ear pierced twice. Now, at seventeen, I sport a total of eight holes in my ears; five in my right ear and three in my left–and I’m not finished yet. I still plan to get a tragus piercing or two, should my ears grow large enough to accommodate the extra metal. That’s about it–as far as my ears go, that is. I still have more of my body left to decorate. 😉

Thankfully, I haven’t gotten much negative reception for the jewelry I sport. In fact, I’ve had people inquire about it–asking if it hurt, healing time, where I went, etc. More often than not, people that notice the holes in my ears are surprised that I have a parent that let me do it to begin with. I just like to say that I’m blessed in that manner.

In short, I love body art and I see myself as a human canvas, begging to be further decorated. And I am very glad that I have a mother who encourages such musings.

I’ve been known to closely examine the appearance of almost everything; clothes, shoes, hair, etc. I think it’s probably from watching a television channel dedicated entirely to clothing when I was very young, reading Vogue magazine for the past three years, and having a mother who said things like, “Yes, dear, I know you’re sick, but does that mean you can’t do your hair and put on something nice?” Being ill, I’d whine about not feeling well enough to do anything other than sleep, but that wouldn’t stop me from getting up and doing something anyway–it’d just take thrice the usual time. 😉

I can’t count the number of times I’ve seen an article of clothing and thought “Hm…I would’ve done that differently,” then proceeded to describe how I’d have sewn or otherwise made the garment. There are just too many gaudy bits and catchpenny appliques on clothing today. It’s very difficult to find something that isn’t profusely embellished with plastic jewels, sequins, or sparkles–not to mention ruching and draping. Personally, I like simple looks, clean lines and decorations that aren’t too…loud. And, to be quite frank, that isn’t what’s primarily in fashion.

To further show my inspection, I’ll share another event: I was sitting in the car with my mom recently, and upon gazing out the window on my right, I found myself inspecting the hair of the woman in the car next to me. I said, “I want to fix her hair. It’s like ‘I’m a bleached-blond and I just went swimming, but I’m dirty.’ I get the urge to tap on her window and give her my phone number so I can fix it for her.”

Truth be told, I know I’m not in any place to judge, and everyone has their own sense of style and taste. Most of the time, I keep my opinions to myself. However, I’m sure I’m not the only person who sees things and wonders why someone decided something in a certain manner. Think about it, at some time or another, you’ve probably done it, too.

I’ve been hearing a lot of people discuss New Year’s resolutions lately. I must say, I never set any sort of goal specifically for a new year– I tend to start something new the same day that I think of it. (I find it increases my chances of actually committing myself to something). I’ll think about it for a few hours, just to turn it over mentally, but as soon as I actually get into a project, I find myself getting engulfed fully in it–not really wanting to do much else until my work is done. Although, as a bit of a perfectionist, I’m never truly satisfied with much that I do–it’s an artist thing, I suppose.

Anyway, hearing so many people discuss goals for the new year, I thought I may as well share a few things I have in mind that I’d like to accomplish; not necessarily this year, but sometime in my life. And, I challenge you, dear reader(s), to think up your own goals, short or long term–it matters not. Just try to come up with something that you can aspire to–a set direction in mind that you can achieve. So, with that idea, I leave you all with a portion of my list:

1. Finish composing a piece of music. I’ve been playing the guitar (in a dedicated sense) for roughly three months now (though I’ve owned her for longer). I have created short riffs that I know might sound really nice when pieced together. However, due to my critical creativity and lack of faith in my skill, I haven’t actually gathered the necessary materials to record and lay the riffs together and make something meaningful.

2. Choreograph a complete dance routine. I love to dance and I get ideas for moves that would be paired together well with music. Unfortunately, I get the ideas around 4:00am and that is not a time when I can make a video of what I see in my mind. Well, I probably could, but I’m sure my mother would think I’m insane for dancing out behind the houses at 4am with music blasting in the windy coldness that is January.

3. Get more confidence in my artistic ability. I’ve been writing poetry and short stories for most of my life and I’ve been keeping what I write since I was twelve. I had a piece of my poetry published in a book last year and I know that’s not an opportunity that comes about every day. I’m thankful for the World Poetry Movement publishing my poem, and while that did give my confidence a boost, honestly, I still sometimes wonder if people say I’m a good writer just to be nice. Horrible, I know, but it’s true.

4. Learn to say no. Truth be told, I have a difficult time saying no to people–particularly those that I like. I’ll go out of my way and make myself miserable in order to make sure someone else has what they want. I know, in theory, that it isn’t a good thing, but I really can’t stand seeing those that I love unhappy. It’s an issue I’ve had since I was a kid and I know the habit won’t go anywhere without a great deal of effort on my part.

5. Care less about what people think of me. I’m the kind of person who wants people to like me–even if I don’t know them. I haven’t exactly had all positive experiences with people liking who I am and it is for that reason that I very rarely show who I truly am to anyone. I’ve made it my goal to care less about what people think about me because I can’t live my life fully when I’m bogged down by what anyone else might think about what I’m doing. It just doesn’t work out well that way.

I second guess myself a lot. When I was younger, I rarely did, but it seems to be that as I get older, the worries about what could happen press more on me than they used to. It is for this reason that I am beginning to understand why ignorance is said to be bliss.

Truth be told, I’m the kind of person who will listen to just about anything someone has to say and take it to heart. For most of my life, in fact, I’ve been that way. As of recently, today to be quite specific, I’ve noticed that I am beginning to develop an attitude that just says, “Screw it.” My reasoning behind this is that whenever I follow what someone else says I should do for xyz reason, things never turn out well; opportunities are missed, promises aren’t kept and ultimately, I end up the unhappy party.

I’ve learned that being bogged down with what everyone else might think, or feel doesn’t really matter that much. It’s not that people and their feelings don’t matter, it’s just that I can’t let anyone else’s opinions hinder what I really know I need to do.

I have big dreams and ambitions in life, I always have and lately, I’ve been letting people get in the way of what I’m trying to do. I know these people love me and just want the best for me, but it’s my life and honestly, I trust the universe and what it has planned for me and I believe that there’s a reason why I have an insatiable desire to go as far as I do in life.

Although sometimes, I must admit, I want people to just love me and respect my decisions enough to support me and keep their mouths shut when necessary. 😐 But, people are people and that may never happen. So, just in case it never does, I just have to change my attitude about it and keep going.

Sometimes I wonder if people understand the power of words. Words can heal or hurt, help or harm, enlighten or obscure. I believe that far too many people either don’t realize that or don’t care enough about this power to be careful. Recently, I experienced something that made this all too clear for me.

I’m a bit of an outcast in my neighborhood. I live in a predominately Caucasian area and I’m multi-racial. I look like I don’t belong when I’m out among my community. I never went to public school, made friends with my peers, or even socialized with them. I’m quiet and reserved, I don’t wear tight clothes, date, drink alcohol or smoke and I have an accent that is not typical of someone from here. I spend most of my time reading, playing my guitar or doing something else creatively constructive. In fact, most adults that meet me, assume that I’m either about twelve because of my childish face, or nineteen because of my demeanor. As you can probably assume, this sets me apart from the other teens in my area a great deal.

I go outside relatively frequently–sometimes with my mom, my brother or by myself. On numerous occasions, I have encountered the teenagers that attend a nearby high school. I never say anything or even look at them, as I do with most people, but this hasn’t stopped the teen girls from taunting me and blatantly insulting me when I pass them. They call me names, make fun of my hair, shoes, and clothes. I haven’t been physically harmed by any of them, but somehow, what they say hurts more than a bruise or broken bone ever could.

I’m sensitive and self-conscious about my body, due to things that probably will be discussed in later posts. What they say brings up emotions that I would rather keep under wraps. I deal with the stress surrounding my physical self every day; I don’t need someone pointing out what they perceive as flaws. I’ve been called dirty, ugly, fat, mannish, and plenty of other names that I won’t disclose.

Logically, I know I’m not dirty; I bathe. Most of the time, I don’t think I’m ugly, unattractive sometimes, but ugly, no. I’m not really fat; I’m about 4 feet 10.5 inches tall and 115-120 pounds–I’m curvy, but not fat; I can still see my ribs when I lift my arms and I exercise everyday. I know I don’t look like a man, I’m obviously a girl, but I dress modestly and in a manner that is comfortable for me.

My logic; however, has nothing to do with what my emotions feel. Their words sting more than I express in a blog post, and sometimes, I believe what they say about me.

My point is, we have to be careful what we say because you never know how it may affect someone. Don’t say anything to anyone that you wouldn’t want to hear yourself. You don’t know what this person may be going through in life, what they’re thinking or how they feel. Be careful what you say. You may be doing more harm than good.